Chapter Text
What the hell had he gotten himself into now?
Danny hadn’t laid on a couch in what felt like years. Graveyard benches, tree branches, and mausoleum roofs were very poor substitutes for cushions or mattresses. The couch was rank and decrepit and leaking stuffing all over the place and it felt heavenly. There was also a weirdly abundant supply of ectoplasm just floating around the place. Ancients he hoped that didn’t mean what he thought it meant. He better not have invaded another ghost’s Haunt. He did not want to deal with a territorial asshole trying to fight him off when he needed to heal. He was not leaving this couch for anything.
Warily, he gathered up the ectoplasm telekinetically and wrapped it all around himself like a faintly glowing blanket, soaking it in with a small contented churr from his core. He still thought it was weird-all the animal like noises he could make. Noises that were instinctual and part of Core Speak, which was a lesser form of Ghost Speak. Ghost Speak itself was less about words and more about emotions and the vague intention of thoughts. Like when sounds and colors could convey a certain feeling or impression. He’d used a bit of it to talk to Red Hood even though Ghost Speak was something humans couldn’t understand or even perceive. It was an unconscious habit- Ghost Speak was the only way he could communicate with the other ghosts (not that they cared much for what he had to say most of the time) and he couldn’t even try to talk to anyone else usually.
It was nice that Red Hood still seemed to be able to understand him, it felt good to ‘talk’ with someone willing to play charades.
But, Ancients, what an embarrassing conversation. He’d been so delirious from being punch drunk and having blood loss. He was lucky he couldn’t talk because he couldn’t imagine what kind of filth he would’ve been spewing, waxing poetic about Red Hood’s juicy ass or something, if he could’ve. Just because it really was a juicy ass didn’t mean Red Hood had to know. Although, he probably already knew that. Man couldn’t walk around with that much cake and not know it. So, Red Hood didn’t have to know that Danny knew about and appreciated his ass. And thighs. And arms. And tits. Aaaand- he really needed to think about something else.
Red Hood being surprisingly hilarious? He called him Ghostbuster Reject and he didn’t even know Danny was a ghost. Not to mention all the names for Batman like Goth Furry Man and Mr. Dark and Stormy Night. He could tell that Red Hood was keeping back more of them too. He’d take any silly nickname Red wanted to give him if it meant he didn’t have to go by the stupid name he’d given himself.
Fetcher the Fetch. Red was right, it made him sound like Moon Moon. It would have to do though. He couldn’t spread the name Phantom around, couldn’t risk the GIW or his parents trying to find him in Gotham. The city had enough of its own problems without the property damage and disregard for by-standers that came with either group.
He felt bad that he’d only given Red Hood the partial truth. He was a Fetch, but that wasn’t exactly a term well used outside of ghosts and the Realms. Fetch- the apparition of a being yet still alive. The ghost of a living person. Both alive and dead. Half ghost and half human. Not that Danny felt all that like a human anymore. He hadn’t changed in a long time and the only reason he knew he still had a side of himself still alive was the faint heart-beat that thumped just under his core.
He still felt a tad guilty about hiding the whole “dead guy” she-bang from Red, but he didn’t need some weirdly nice Gotham Rogue knowing his entire being was against the law. That he could be turned over to the government for a hefty bounty. Didn’t matter that the guy had saved his skin, he’d been betrayed more than once and he wouldn’t risk it with a stranger. He also didn’t want to cause trouble. Red Hood looked like a guy that could handle himself but also someone who would protect his own to the last. He didn’t need anyone getting shot on either side because of him. The GIW didn’t care about collateral damage and they really wouldn’t care about hurting people they thought didn’t matter and destroying homes already falling apart. It was unfair and maddening, but it was how they worked. Ruthless and unforgiving.
Was it sad that the ghosts he use to fight to protect the town were now the least of his problems? Most of them had been scared off by the GIW after they’d gotten more competent and started experimenting. After the Anti-Ecto Acts got passed, most of the regular ghosts had made themselves scarce. Only the more powerful guys had dared to step foot into Amity, and then they became Danny’s problem. And then the whole mess with Pariah had happened and then none of the ghosts wanted to go top side. No, Danny’s post in Amity, stuck as it was in the zone, had become more about preventing humans from entering the Zone than the other way around. He had to stop the occasional reckless spirit, but for the most part they stayed scarce.
He hoped the Realms would be okay while he was gone. Who knows what his parents or the GIW could get up to in his absence.
He dozed on and off for a good bit, sleep light as it always was in ghost form. He could avoid eating when he was Phantom by absorbing ectoplasm, and he could get by with much less sleep in this form as well. But when he was injured, especially as injured as he was now, he needed to rest to get better. Needed to conserve energy and soak. Like a nice bath. A ghostly hibernation.
He started to feel better each time he blearily woke before going back down.
One of the times he could hear clanging and shuffling, like someone making food in a kitchen. He figured Red Hood would have gotten take-out. Was he making food? Maybe he was just dreaming. Dreaming of a better time in a more familiar kitchen…
It was all vague sensations and feelings. Just the warm light of the sun streaming in through the kitchen window. Just the suggestion of a fresh breeze blowing through and stirring up the scent of spices permeating the cramped space. The susurration of curtains in the wind. Just the faintest sound of humming and soft laughter. Like he’d fallen asleep in the kitchen and he was hearing everything through a drowsy fog.
It was warm. The oven was on. There was something giving off steam on the stove. He could hear pots clanging and utensils clinking. He could hear murmuring and rustling. There was the sensation of closeness and a sort of comfort and togetherness he rarely felt. It felt like contentment. It felt like love.
“Hey, sweetie,” his mom said, voice soft and dulcet. He could feel a warm hand rubbing his back. “It’s time for dinner now, sleepy-head.”
He said something in reply but he couldn’t hear it. He felt dizzy, like the room was spinning and everything he’d felt started to distort and spiral. His mother said something again but her voice came out cold and distorted and angry.
“What did you do with my son?”
“Hey,” a gruff voice, still staticky from being filtered, spoke as he was shaken awake. He blinked as the dream he’d been having floated away from his mind, forgotten as he rose from Nocturn’s hold into the realm of the wakeful.
“Black-white-and-green-all-over,” the voice said again, a hint of amusement lacing the words, “time to wake up and smell the bacon.”
“Food’s ready,” Red Hood said, straightening from where he’d been hovering over Danny to wake him.
Mrrp?
His core let out a little sound, much like a cat just being woken. Cats and ghosts had a lot in common, sounds wise, and he was discovering new sounds he could make all the time. Most ghosts could just talk and Core Speak was considered something more intimate, to be used with close friends, lovers, and allies. But for him, it was the only way he could communicate until he could find a way to learn sign. His core seemed particularly talkative around Red Hood, too. Strange. Maybe because Red was the first person he’d encountered in ages that didn’t want to immediately kill him?
“H-ohmygod.”
He blinked, stretching and tilting his head in question. What was that about?
“You’re adorable, kid,” Red answered, teasing.
Red Hood had his hands on his hips, arms bare in all their glory without his jacket, and was wearing an apron. A red apron with frills and a cute little skull printed on it. Who was this man to call Danny the adorable one?! Clearly he hadn’t seen himself in a mirror. It didn’t matter at all that Danny couldn’t see his face- the personalized apron was more than enough. Did he make that? Did someone else make it for him? He had so many questions he couldn’t ask.
Danny chose to just flip him off instead.
Red shook his head and headed back into the kitchen. “Get your ass in here and eat this soup already. You look like you’ve healed enough.”
If Danny could groan, he would. The thought of moving was not appealing. He had already told himself that he wasn’t moving from the couch for anything and that included whatever soup ‘The Red Hood’ decided to shovel into him.
Could Red even cook? He had a whole apron thing going on, but that didn’t really mean anything. Maybe it was a gag gift because of how bad he was at cooking. He shuddered. Well, no one could be worse than his parents. He’s pretty sure sentient food beats out burnt to a crisp any day. There wasn’t any smoke or sign of fire so that was encouraging at least.
He was mostly healed at this point, scrapes gone and bleeding stopped. He could move his arm again and he didn’t need to channel all his ectoplasm into healing alone. His thigh and his shoulder were still throbbing from the shitty Bat-a-rangs but they were on the mend. Honestly, for how bad off he’d been he was healing pretty well and pretty quickly. The benefits of being a dead guy. And landing in a city rich with the stuff that helped him. He had enough he could probably go invisible and freak out Red, but he’d refrain for now.
Still, he flopped over the cushions, debating on whether it was worth it to move or not. He didn’t need to eat and its not like his senses were the same in ghost form as they were in human form. He didn’t smell the same way and while he’d never tested it, he probably couldn’t taste the same way either. So what did it even matter-
And suddenly there was a mass of looming Red just hovering over him and then- still very suddenly, he was being lifted up from the couch. Cradled in very warm, very nice arms.
“H-up we go-,” Red Hood mumbled, very very close to Danny’s ear and making him shiver. He was carried princess style into the kitchen and plopped down into a rickety wooden seat. He stared dumbly down at the, frankly, delicious looking bowl of chicken noodle soup as he tried to process what the hell just happened. Everything was tingly and his mind was blank. He had phantom (haha) sensations of warmth where Red had held him. When was the last time he’d been touched without being hurt?
“Like a handful of grapes,” he heard Red mutter as he settled into the seat across from Danny. Wow, rude.
Red picked up a spoon and used it to point at Danny’s bowl. “Eat.”
He huffed and slid down in the chair a bit but picked up the spoon anyway. If he could grumble he would. He made sure to look as petulant as he could as he dipped his spoon into the broth. He stared dumbly again as he tried to figure out how he was supposed to eat.
He heard a mechanical click and looked up to see that Red had retracted part of his mask somehow, leaving the bottom half of his face bare. A cupid’s bow. Hm. A cupid’s bow turned up into a smirk. Red pointed again.
“Eat.”
His voice was odd without the modulator, smooth and deep. And very clearly amused. And Danny really, really needed to think about other things. He had enough to worry about than to be distracted by a nice voice. One guy treats you like you’re not a monster and suddenly you go ga-ga for him. The thought made him sag further down into the chair, piercing the night with a shrill squeak. Fucking hopeless.
Danny sighed internally and went back to trying to figure out how to eat. Well, if he was healed enough to go invisible he was healed enough to go intangible. Partially.
He made the mask intangible but still visible, so to someone else it didn’t look any different from before. Then he brought the spoon up and let it pass through the mask unhindered. Oh Ancients. Chicken noodle soup. Good chicken noodle soup. He couldn’t smell it before, but he could now, and it smelled divine and tasted even better. He would die a second time for this soup. Hell, he might kill someone for this soup. Red Hood wanted someone gone? He would do it. He’d do it for soup. He kind of wanted to cry about it. How long had it been since he’d had something to eat? Let alone something this good. And even less something that was home-made and this good. Yeah, if he kept thinking about it he would definitely cry.
He took another eager bite, willing to sink into the flavor- rich with things he’d almost forgotten about like garlic and onion and carrots and celery. Spices he couldn’t name giving it a taste like nothing else. He felt a deep warmth spread through his body and his core purred with contentment.
He blinked open his eyes that he hadn’t even realized he’d closed to find Red Hood staring at him.
“How the fuck are you doing that?” he asked, incredulous.
Danny tilted his head in feigned innocence. He had no idea what Red was talking about, no sirree.
“Don’t give me that, you know what you’re doing,” he said, pointing an accusatory finger towards him. “How the fuck are you doing it?”
Danny rolled his eyes and dropped his spoon. He held up his hand and then phased it through the table, waving his fingers in a little ta-da motion afterwards.
“Alright. Density-shifting,” he said, sounding just a bit exasperated. “Okay. That’s just a thing you can do, then.”
He didn’t know what density shifting was but figured it was close enough to intangibility that he nodded. He picked up his spoon but before he could eat the most delicious meal of his life, Red had another question.
“Anything else you can do that I should worry about?”
He paused (a tragedy, really). It’s not like he could actually give a list. He could write it, yeah, but where was the fun in that. It also didn’t help that he couldn’t remember half of his powers on a good day. They were instinctual. Like a muscle he didn’t know the name of that he could flex. He could move the muscle but its not like he was aware of it. What it was called or how it worked.
He shrugged and continued eating.
“You know, glow-stick, there’s gonna come a point where I need answers,” Red said, voice wry.“I’ve let you get away with a lot already. Don’t think I’ll be lenient again,” he spoke with finality.
Danny regarded him seriously. Red Hood had let him move on without explaining things multiple times now. He was grateful for it honestly. He didn’t know how he would even start to untangle all that he was to this stranger. He couldn’t even do that with people he knew and trusted. And he didn’t want to go through being interrogated within an inch of his half-live again either. At least Red was being civil about everything.
He put his spoon down again (mournfully) and gave Red Hood a solemn nod. There wasn’t much else he could do to convey his thanks and his seriousness, but Red seemed to get the message.
“Good. Don’t cause trouble and it won’t be an issue.”
He wanted to laugh at that. Like he could ever stay out of trouble.
Red must have sensed his amusement because he made a motion with his head like he was rolling his eyes. Danny could tell even though he couldn’t see them behind the helmet. Looks like they were both able to communicate with body language pretty well, probably why Red was so good at reading him.
They ate in silence for a bit, the distant sound of sirens and gunfire lulling to a background noise he wouldn’t have thought he’d get used to so easily. But it was still somehow familiar, like a song he knew played on an instrument he’d never heard of. Police sirens instead of ghost attack sirens and gunfire instead of the odd electric crackle of ecto-blasts.
Danny melted into his chair as he finished his last bite, the warmth of the soup turning him into a puddle of goo. His belly felt full in a way it hadn’t in years. The last meal Jazz had made for him had been when he was what? Sixteen? Before she left.
“So,” Red started, voice firm. Danny wanted to groan again. He didn’t want to have serious discussions, not now. All he wanted to do right now was become one with the table and savor his beautiful, beautiful soup. But Red Hood was relentless. Merciless.
“You said you climbed out of a portal?”
He nodded. Miserably.
“You got any way to get back through said portal?”
He stilled. No, he didn’t. He really didn’t. He'd been fighting for his half-life too much to have time to think about it.
So he thought about what would happen next. Would he go back to his Haunt? Could he? He’d found his way topside and the only stable portal connecting the two halves was in the ruins of the place that Amity used to occupy. Both his parents’ portal and Vlad’s had been victims to the shift into the Zone, both weirdly inverting on themselves, collapsing and reforming- twisting reality in ways it should never have twisted.
Vlad’s portal never stabilized, shrinking down and imploding in on itself- condensing like a dying star becoming a black hole but bursting out in radioactive shock-waves instead. It took out half of Elmerton in the explosion as well. Thankfully the neighboring town had been evacuated the moment Amity disappeared so there weren’t any casualties. But it had definitely been a close call. His parent’s portal survived on a miracle, creating an exit for the townspeople when everyone realized that the city was stuck and there was no going back. Nobody died but- there wasn’t a single citizen who hadn’t lost everything. There was only so much that could be transported through the portal after all. It was the only time anyone ever let him near enough to help, if only to use his strength to carry the boxes of meager belongings through to the other side. Boxy knew better than to mess with them when he was around.
The truth was that he didn’t have anywhere to go. Anything to do. If he weren’t only half-ghost then the loss of his Haunt and Obsession could have Ended him, but as it were it just made him sad. Restless. Core-tearingly despondent. He’d already just been listlessly haunting the cemetery, fighting ghosts when they wanted to pick a fight with him. Skulker was really the only one that tried anymore.
The most he could hope for was a natural portal popping up that he could sneak into, and that was only if it didn’t spit him back out somewhere completely different instead of the Zone. While Gotham seemed to have an abundance of ectoplasm, that didn’t mean it had an abundance of portals.
Would he build a new place for himself here? Haunt a new graveyard? He could never be human again. He’d left that life far and long behind. Maybe he’d find a house to haunt, be a proper ghost and scare some people.
The thought left a bad taste in his mouth, but he elected to ignore it. He’d only just felt a little like a human again. A mistake.
He’d stalled long enough. He shook his head and waited for Red Hood’s reaction.
“Anyplace to go?” he questioned, tone flat. Danny couldn’t begin to tell what he was thinking, he kept his cards close to his chest. But maybe there was a hint of concern there? Or maybe he was being too optimistic.
He shrugged, truthfully not knowing how to answer that. He could try to get back to Amity, but that was a long, long while to walk and a major fight with the GIW and his parents that he didn’t want to pick. Or he could settle back into the cemetery he’d been chased from. Visit his old zombie pal, Jason and dodge Batman again. It’s not like he needed human accommodations. Nothing an old mausoleum wouldn’t do.
Danny could see the black eye-cover of Red’s helmet narrow (and wasn’t that a trip). He could feel the other man’s stare, intense and analytic. He waited.
Red Hood sighed. “Well, for now, you’re staying here until you’re healed completely. Then we’ll figure it out as we go.” He pressed a button on his helmet that made it drop back down and recover his face, then stood up and picked up the empty soup bowls. “Don’t need Bold and the Bleakness trying to kill you over something stupid again.”
Danny nodded. He could agree to that. He’d stay until the Bat-a-rang wounds and his broken arm fully healed and then drift back to the cemetery. No need to bother Red Hood any further than he already had. He didn’t deserve as much kindness as he’d already gotten. The man might seem to be a crime lord, but he cared about his people and had a surprising amount of warmth. A man like that didn’t need to worry about a thing like Danny.
He would fade out when Red Hood left and go back to where he belonged. Some dusty old mausoleum he could guard. And then he would wait out the rest of his existence there, protecting bones no one cared about anymore for as long as he continued to walk this plane. Maybe someday he’d fully die and make his way back to the empty streets of Amity, maybe by then the ghosts of his neighbors would have repopulated the town. Maybe he’d see his friends again. Maybe, someday, he could rest.
It was as good a plan as any.
“Alright, kid, rest up for now,” Red said, rinsing out the bowls and setting them to dry on a rack by the sink. Danny just watched the man move about the kitchen, enjoying the view. Red ducked out of the apron and folded it up until it was as small of a bundle as it could go and stuffed it in a side pocket on his utility belt. Well, huh. So he just carried that around with him then. Fascinating.
He turned back to Danny and pointed a stern finger in his direction. “I don’t wanna see you anywhere but that couch until you’re fully healed.”
Danny rolled his eyes and nodded. He’d be fine. Red Hood wouldn’t see him anywhere but the couch, not once he went invisible.
Red pulled his gloves on, Danny watching with rapt attention. Maybe a little too much attention when he pulled his jacket back on and his arms flexed with the movement. Hmm.
“You need help back to the couch, glow-stick?”
Danny felt himself flush, face probably turning green under the mask as he scrambled out of the chair and stumbled back to the couch, shaking his head along the way. He plopped down onto the cushions and melted a little into the blood-stained fabric with a bit of intangibility.
Red Hood huffed and shook his head, making his way toward the window and throwing a leg out and straddling the sill.
“Rest up and I’ll see you in the morning, Fetcher,” he called, giving Danny a wave.
Danny gave a wave back, a little sad that this would be the last time he saw Red Hood. He’d be gone in an hour or two, ready to haunt one of the smaller cemeteries of Gotham into perpetuity. For now, however, he’d take another nap and rest like a human just one last time.